


The Emmy Winner Discount

by GoodJanet



Category: Late Night Host RPF
Genre: Banter, Celebrations, Double Entendre, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8078071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: "…And Jon Stewart for everything."   John blushes as he watches his former boss get himself all puffed up like some kind of proud step-father and gush all over his office.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations to John Oliver and his Emmy win last night!

“You-you know you didn’t have to thank me in your speech. Your show is all you and all your writers. You’ve earned it, man!” Jon praises.

John blushes as he watches his former boss get himself all puffed up like some kind of proud step-father and gush all over his office.

“Jon, you know I’m English, so I highly resent the fact that you’re making me express myself, but if it weren’t for you I would’ve been sobbing in the back of an airplane all the way back home ages ago, where, upon exiting the plane, I would have promptly received a dozen shame lashings from one of Her Majesty’s more sadistic squires.”

Jon tries to keep a straight face throughout John’s diatribe, but the more details he adds, the more Jon finds himself covering his face and failing to stifle a series of loud, girlish giggles.

“You know, I’d actually pay good money to see that. Is-is the Queen present for the lashings or—”

“Jon, please! Of course the Queen would oversee the lashings. It isn’t as though she’s got anything else better to do these days than to occasionally pose for money and to pet her lapdog.”

“You’re talking about Philip?” Jon asks.

“Yes,” John laughs. “Philip.”

It sets Jon off again, and John basks in his treasured ability of being able to make the great Jon Stewart crack up.

“But really,” Jon says, sobering up. “You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to drop by and tell you how proud I am of you. You’re doing tremendous things here. A tremendous amount of good.”

“Do you wanna grab a pint? I feel like we should do something rather just sit here before we get so self-congratulatory that I start sucking you off.”

Jon snorts and covers his mouth with his hand again. Despite the grey hair, John knows Jon hasn’t aged a day since he met him.

“Jesus, I haven’t had an offer like that since Colbert started the _Report_.”

“Don’t tempt me, Stewart. Your petty, jealous games won’t work on me,” he says, standing.

“Alright, alright,” Jon says, hands up in surrender. “First round’s on me.”

The bar they pick is a bit of a rainy trek from the studio, but John insists he’s heard good things about it. Plus he’s pretty sure they’re far enough away from all the hustle and bustle that they’ll mostly be left alone. 

Jon decides he likes the place right away. For one, the lights were on and there were no strobes in sight. It had the warm, close quarter feel of a library…if libraries came with a fully stocked cache of seemingly endless amount of alcohol. People were talking and dancing, but everyone seemed pretty friendly and ready to unwind after a long Thursday workday. It was beginning to get crowded, but even Jon, who usually disliked the press of people despite living in New York his whole life, gave it his seal of approval.

“You go see if you can rustle us up a table, and I’ll get us some drinks,” Jon says, affectionately clapping John on the arm.

“Right-o, boss man!” John replies, and he salutes.

Jon playfully rolls his eyes and turns to walk towards the bar. In fact he refills their glasses a few times. All that toasting and the nostalgia tripping really makes a guy thirsty, Jon notices.

Things get a little blurry after that. John can’t remember the last time he let himself have that fifth or sixth—seventh?—drink. And Jon wasn’t far behind. The bartender had recognize them after all, but the man keeps his cool while keeping the drinks free-flowing because of what he insisted was the bar’s “Emmy winner discount.” Jon thinks it’s a brilliant idea.

“It’s a shame I didn’t come here after all of the _The Daily Show_ ’s Emmys,” Jon says.

And John notices that he said “the show’s” Emmys and not “his” Emmys. Fuck, what wasn’t to love about Jon Stewart? He just _cared_ so fucking much about everyone all the time. He genuinely did. Didn’t he ever want something in return? Ever? 

“My offer still stand you know,” John says, probably a bit too loudly.

No one pays them any attention. The bar was pretty much completely full, and they were all absorbed in their own conversations and drinks.

“What offer?” Jon asks, head cocked to the side.

John moves from his chair to Jon’s side booth side of the table.

“You know, if you dyed your hair, you’d look the same as when you took over the show.”

Jon blows a raspberry.

“ _Please_. I have jowls like a bulldog and this,” he says, running his fingers through his hair, “is not nearly the luscious thicket it once was. And the bruise marks under my eyes don’t fucking help things eith—”

It takes Jon a moment to realize that he’s been cut off by John’s lips fitting themselves over his. For the first second or two, Jon lets it happen, but then life speeds back up, and he realizes what’s happing, and he quickly pulls away.

“Um,” Jon says with a swallow. “Wh-what just happened?”

Slowly, John licks his lips. He was trying to figure out from which point on his lips the tingling sensation had originated when he’d kissed Jon.

“That was me telling you that your levels of self-deprecation are appalling.”

Jon looks into his nearly empty glass. He laughs once.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for this, Oliver. Really, I—What’s the goal here?”

“I dunno. I kind of want to see where this goes now, don’t you?”

John’s long fingers reach up to gently cup one side of Jon’s face. He really wants to kiss Jon again, if only to see if the tingles come back. Jon looks sheepish all of a sudden, and he tries to hide his face in the curve of John’s palm. His eyes close tightly, and he bites his lip like he’s torn between what he’s supposed to do and what he wants to do.

“Jon?”

His eyes pop open then. Those wide blue eyes nearly break his heart, and John wishes he knew why Jon suddenly seemed miserable.

“Here. Look, I’ll…”

He gives Jon time to pull away, but he doesn’t. John leans in for another kiss, and Jon doesn’t pull away after the first few seconds like last time. He lets it happen. John even feel his lips slowly part, and he takes that as an invitation to push the matter further. He gets an even stronger tingle when Jon moans into his mouth. John pulls away, panting.

“So do you, um, do you always kiss your coworkers like that, or am I special?” Jon asks after a moment.

“You would be the first.”

“And you know we can’t…”

Jon makes a circular motion with his hand.

“Oh, right. Sure. It’ll be difficult to keep the fact that I snogged you a secret though. You’ve got very kissable lips, Jon.”

Jon cracks a smile.

“I’ll bet you say that to all the guys.”

“Well, not all of them.”

John drunkenly laughs at his own clichéd joke, and Jon tries not to let himself think about another brown haired, brown eyed, bespectacled late night host who used to work with him.

“We should get back. I gotta call a cab,” Jon says.

“Right,” John says. “Gotta call the family.”

Already he can feel their dynamic course correcting itself back to two close friends who used to work together away from whatever manifested itself that evening. John guesses he probably won’t even be able to recreate it in his mind the next morning. He tries not to let that bother him.

“Let’s get you home,” Jon says, arm around John’s middle.

John briefly leans his head against the top of Jon’s as they move towards the exit.

“I already am.”


End file.
